Call Me Lucifer
by Samatoan
Summary: He was always there, that man, following Sam around for as long as he could remember. Sam could never forget the disheveled blond hair, the sly grin that made its way on his face the first time he spoke. "Call me Lucifer" {All human AU. Sam is sure Dean and John are keeping secrets but he has some secrets of his own. That's why he left and that's why he came back again}
1. Prologue

_**Prologue:**_

The bit before the beginning

He was always there, that man, following Sam around for as long as he could remember. Sam could never forget the disheveled blond hair, the sly grin that made its way on his face the first time he spoke. "_Call me Lucifer",_ those words never left Sam, just like Lucifer never left his side, even if Sam couldn't see him he was there. Even when Sam told Dean about him, all he received was a light chuckle and the same remark, '_he's not real Sammy, just your imagination.' _ Sam knew he knew Lucifer was real, just like the men with the black eyes and vicious smiles.

Sam warned his father, he warned Dean that they were coming, but they didn't listen. He should have made them listen, he should have done something. It's his fault that his mother is dead, the demons got her and it is his entire fault.

And that little bit after

The morning rays refracted through the cracks in the dirt caked windows, illuminating Dean's sulking figure. The light played against his slender figure, enhancing every curve, dip and definition of muscle that tugged against of the tight sleeve of his shirt. The coruscate glint in his emerald eyes lit up his face; it reminded Sam of a dew-drop sliding down a blade of grass slowly, glimmering in the sunlight. Dean's expression was guarded, obscuring that sadness that reflected off of his face as Sam angrily threw another jumper into his bag trying his hardest to block out his brothers plead.

"Sammy, I know you're pissed…" the only eligible repose Sam was able to coherently get out was an enraged snort. Pissed was an understatement, this was full blown anger. Sam was seeing red, he could feel it radiating off of him, how dare Dean come in and ask, no beg, for him to stay.

If you could see anger it would be swirling around Sam's figure like a hurricane, unpredictable and merciless, coming off of his tall thin figure in waves of heat.

"Yeah I'm pissed Dean! Why don't you go back to dad and your little secret club you're part of?" Sam snapped back, facing Dean now his hands were balled into tight fists.

"Dad and I don't have a secret club, Sam-" Dean was abruptly cut off by a sharp wave of Sam's hand. "Sam please…"

"No Dean! I'm sick of this! You and dad go off on 'work trips' without another word, or decent explanation of your absence. You just pack up and leave! I'm so sick of it!" Spinning around on his heels Sam grabbed his bag and a large wad of cash he had been secretly saving up, and stormed out of the room slamming the motel door behind him.

Dean blinked twice, stunned by Sam's sudden outburst. It'll be ok though, he'll be back. Sammy will come home, he has to… right? He couldn't help feel a pang of guilt but dad was right, there was no way Sammy was getting involved in this hunter business. Dean would do anything to keep his Sammy safe, even if that meant pushing him away more.

Looking wistfully at the door one more time, Dean's mind wandered to what his father would say. Nothing good, that's for sure. It was his fault anyway, it was his fault Sammy left, it was his fault that Dean might never get to see his Sammy again.

The countryside rolled by slowly as Sam pressed his forehead against the window, gazing wistfully as the scenery passed by in a blur of greens, yellows, blues and brown. It had been two days since his last fight with his dad, two days since he walked out, and two days since he last saw Dean. People say it hurts when you walk out on someone you love but no one ever said how much, not one person ever described the heart wrenching pain that came from leaving someone behind. Two days ago Sam left behind a piece of him that he didn't know existed, a void now replaced the little thing that was beating in his chest. Dean stole it years ago and now he was gone.

It was like cutting off the stem of a rose, its beauty radiant but stealing it from its home, taking away what it needs to survive… the rose would die, wilt away till there was nothing left but to fall apart in the wind. Dean was the water that kept the rose alive, beautiful and thriving. Dean was the fire that fuelled Sam, the fire that kept the ice in his heart at bay. Without Dean Sam was nothing but a cold empty shell, awaiting the day when the wind will come and he will cease to exist.

Dean was everything…

Stanford wasn't what Sam originally planned but at the time anywhere was better than home, not that he really had one. The impala was the only thing Sam had that could even resemble a home, its familiarity was always reassuring but that was all over now. It was his past, now all Sam wanted to look forward to, was his future. A Dean-less future, but that's ok because it is the past, right?

Sam glanced through the corner of his eyes and as usual that familiar blond hair and smirk was following him around. It had been a while since his last appearance but it wasn't missed, but there he sat alone at the back, hidden in the shadows. Ignoring his sudden appearance Sam focused on the front of the bus, trying to push the image of the man, the self-proclaimed Lucifer_,_ out of his mind.

"_Heya Sammy"_ Sam grit his teeth, only Dean ever called him that, not some insufferably annoying man that looked like he crawled out of a rubbish tip.

Sam knew ignoring him was a terrible idea but it's not like he had a choice, but that's the thing with annoying men called Lucifer, they stick around till at least one of them is insane. Just a few more days, just a few more days and he'll be gone again.

At that thought Sam felt something hit the back of his head, preceded by something wet. Just a few more days, you can do it_. C'mon Sam, pull yourself together_,the voice in the back of his head pressed _stop pitting yourself, it's not like anyone cares. _This is gonna be a long trip

"_Hey Sammy, talk to me. I'm bored" _Lucifer's drawl sent shivers up Sam's back, why wasn't anyone looking or at least helping him. Why was he so invisible to anyone? Yep, this will defiantly be a very long road trip, but at least his future awaits. Pulling out a pen and paper Sam begins to write. _Dear Dean…_


	2. Chapter 1

2nd December, 2001

Dear Dean,

I'm sorry I left like that but you know I had no other choice. I'm not like you and dad, he doesn't want me around. He sends me away on weeks on end whilst you both 'work' or whatever the hell you do on those trips together. But seriously what the hell do you even do? Is it still a secret? What do I need to do to be part of your secret club, sacrifice a virgin or something? Anyways, I miss you. On my way to Stanford, I'm considering to study law. It sounds fun, lots of work though; I know dad would disapprove immediately. I'm rambling, sorry, this is just the longest we have and ever will be apart you know?

Sam. W.

4th December, 2001

Dear Dean,

I just enrolled into Stanford; I'm waiting for the verdict now. I guess you could say I'm scared shitless because I have no idea what to do next. I'm working at three different places in hope of getting money but you know how college fees are. I made a few friends, they're great, they're not you but they're great. I honestly wish you were here; I miss you every god damn day, even dad. Well I hope I get in, but I don't know what to do. I'm so lost Dean, I don't know anyone and I miss you, I left and I'm just god damn lost. Why did you have to make me leave? Why did dad do that to me? I get that he doesn't want me, but why Dean…

Sam. W.

8th December, 2001

Dear Dean,

I got in! I bloody made it by some small miracle; I'm starting up in the Winter Quarter at the beginning of next year. Last letter I said I was scared, which I am, but not that way anymore. Yeah it's been rough but I've got a proper part time job and I've met a few people. I don't care what I said before, I am glad I left. You and dad are fine without me. Besides, you know how great it is to be this free? Not daddy's little soldier, not having to spend an hour each day learning how to shoot a gun. I mean, what psycho teaches his kids to do that anyways, I should have put that on my resume. Other skills: decapitation, shooting a gun, lock picking, faking ID's. I'm sure that would sit well with the professors. It's a real good way to make friends, not that'd you know. Dad never let us have 'friends,' we moved around way too much.

Sam. W.

15th December, 2001

Dear Dean,

I made a new friend, huzzah. His name is Brady, he's a great guy, and he'll be going to Stanford too. I think he is my first real friend; we never had friends you know, well I didn't, not really. I can't really say with you, I mean you were always the popular one. I think I've already said this before. Do you even get these letters, or do you not care? I like to think that an elf is stealing them before you get them but not everyone's life is magical, I mean, we don't live in a book. Life is cold, hard and empty, without magic, monsters or anything besides the harsh reality of life, as Brady put it 'a sexually-transmitted, terminal disease." That sounds 'bout right doesn't it? Well I got my timetable, school starts up on the fifth of January, and it seems so far away. Did you know that that's less than a month away? Time goes by quickly, too quickly.

Sam. W.

25th December, 2001

Dear Dean,

MERRY CHRISMAS DEAN, I hope dad got you something nice. Scratch that, I hope dad's home, there's nothing like spending Christmas alone. I'm going out with Brady and a few other guys tonight, Christmas only comes round one a year, might as make the most of it. Remember our Christmases together? Alone cooped up in a shitty motel with barely enough food for both of us, shame you weren't good at credit card scams then. Yeah I know about that, I just know when to keep my trap shut. Dad can't do anything about that now. I miss you Dean, I miss you every day, don't forget that.

Sam. W.

31st December, 2001

Dear Dean,

Last day of the year big brother, I miss you. This is the longest we've been apart, well will be. I wish you were here, going out with a few friends. Drinking, hustling some pool, you were always good at that. You're good at everything, maybe besides school and keeping a single relationship, but hey, we're only human. A year is gone and I'm almost nineteen years old, they say time flies but I never knew how much. These last few weeks have come and gone within the blink of an eye. Which is odd, maybe because I've gotten over leaving, I know it's for the best so why mope around. As dad'll say, don't cry over spilt milk. Well he never really said it, but that's the expression. Anyway, have a good last day of the year, don't get too drunk!

Sam. W.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 2

1st January 2002

Dear Dean,

Happy New Year Dean! I hope your night was as eventful as mine, it ain't right being alone on New Year's Eve but knowing dad, I wouldn't be surprised if you worked. So what's new in the world of Dean? Dad given you the car yet or have you come to your senses and realized that dad isn't the saint that he treats you as? I don't have much to say besides you don't have to reply on dad anymore, maybe try living a little. Have a good new year Dean, I wish you were here. I really do Dean…

Sam. W.

5th January

Dear Dean,

It's my first day at Stanford, I can say I am scared out of my mind but nothing can beat the feeling of knowing I'm not going to leave in a few weeks' time. It feels so weird, knowing I'm not going to have to leave after a few weeks like we always did. No more being scared of getting attached to someone you'll have to leave eventually. You know how great it is to wake up to a proper home? We never had that, well you did for a bit, but me? My home was the impala; I don't remember mum and I never will. Maybe that's for the best, I do think about what life would be like with her though. That's a nice thought; maybe it'll distract me from the huge gaping hole in my chest where my heart is. Blaming you on this one, you stole it long ago brother of mine. Good luck with whatever the hell you're doing and I'm off to Stanford.

Sam. W.

10th January

Dear Dean,

So I was thinking of what life would be like if mum was alive and we all were back at home in Kansas. Problem was I can never know what it'd be like, I never knew her, I don't have a single memory of her, I mean, how could I? I was only six bloody months old when she died in that fire, you have memories. I have nothing but a shitty picture dad managed to salvage. I can't remember what it felt like to be held by her or tucked in before bed. I don't remember the small of walking into the house with something fresh out of the oven she made for us after school. You were lucky Dean; you have those memories to cling onto. I have nothing. Instead my memories are being brought up in a boot camp, up nearly every morning to train for whoever knows what for, the shitting meals we get at diners if we were lucky to get money, those horrid nights in those hotels. Where are my good memories Dean? I had to leave, I'm so sorry but I had no future with you two. I still care about you, all the damn time, you are my brother and I miss you. I miss you too much; it's just hard letting go.

Sam. W.

19th January

Dear Dean,

What if I told you that man was back? Dean, I swear he is following me. I'm sure you have seen him around, blond hair, looks like he pulled wings off of butterflies when he was little, and he's got this voice, this presence. He never changes, never leaves, he's like a ghost, always around and yet unseen. I swear when I see him it sends shivers down my spine, when I was little he was nice, he like played with me and stuff, he cared but now. I don't know man, I just don't know he just creeps me out, that's all. I know he's not bad or anything, but it's something about him that's just… not natural. Maybe he's my guardian angel, ha that's a thought.

Missing you always…

Sam. W.

29th January

Dear Dean,

Still working with dad, or is it still the big secret that I could never know, I've got a virgin if you want me to sacrifice someone to join your secret club. I'm joking… if you didn't get that… unless it is required you know. How is the old man? Still treating you like his little soldier. Ok I'm sorry. I guess it's been pretty rough, I just wish we never had to live like this. Dad's a good guy, he thinks he is doing the right thing but I just want to go to college but dad always treated the idea like it was the worst thing in the world. Sometimes I just wonder what I did wrong in this god awful world, reality sucks and that's a fact. Stanford has helped get my mind off of all that; it keeps me busy with work and friend. When did we ever have that? I'm happy here Dean, I do miss you. I've said this a thousand times, I miss you but do you miss me as much as I miss you? I like to think you do, it's sort of reassuring. Like a comfort blanket. Dean Winchester: comfort blanket extraordinaire. Yeah, I like that. Good night Dean

Sam. W.


	4. Chapter 3

5th February 2002

Dear Dean,

So I've officially been studying here for a year, funny how time flies. Well I guess it's the first day back. One year down and only a few more to go, oh what joy. In all seriousness I enjoy it here at Stanford; I have friends, like real friends. I've said this before I know but every day I wake up and have to remind myself that I'm not leaving, not anytime soon. I just wish you had a chance at this life, there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about you.

Sam. W.

3rd May 2002

Dear Dean,

I guess it was my birthday yesterday, I really didn't want to do much for it, though I am burdened with friends that think a night out filled with alcohol and hazy memories of women is a way to celebrate such stupid things such as birthdays. I mean what's the point of them anyways, who would want to celebrate the day they were messily (and not to mention bloodily) extracted from their mothers' wombs, it's stupid. Anyways I was talking about crazed friends and wild pointless partying, it wasn't all bad, and I met this girl. Her name is Jess and she's great, more your type though. Brady introduced me to her, told you he was a great guy.

Sam. W.

17th June 2002

Dear Dean,

So get this, Jess and I are dating, weird huh. It was always you who attracted the girls, I was always just 'Dean's gangly little brother' but look how the tables have turned. It's odd thinking that I would be successful in that area, thinking back on it now, it's weird to think I even made proper interaction with a female of my species. That sounded less lame in my head. On other news I know dad visits, I've seen him walk in, I never went to say hello though. Every month he would go to the office to pay for my fees, kinda nice of him isn't it. I never hated dad, not really. I understand he was protecting me, in his own weird way.

Sam. W.

12th December 2002

Dear Dean,

It's finally the last day of exams, and then we've got a whole new set in a few months, I guess it comes with the territory. I think I'm being followed, maybe it's my imagination or just Luce fucking with me but I'm scared. I haven't been scared like this in a long time, last time I was, I was with you. I just don't know what to do man, I haven't seen Brady today, Jess is out and someone is following me. I know it. I can always feel their ghost like presence hidden within the cold shadows every day, watching me with devious intent. I feel it at every corner, and I have never felt more alone in the world. It's just me, my books and the yellow eyed ghost of a man. Never have I needed you more.

Sam. W.

January 24th 2003

Dear Dean,

Happy birthday Dean, may the gods of strippers and one night stands bless you with a night to remember, that is if you're not piss drunk before seven o'clock. I don't really have much to say but happy birthday. Party hard, don't die from a damaged liver and stay away from the hookers.

Sam. W.

27th April 2003

Dear Dean,

Why do I do this, why do I still write to you. It's not like you'll ever reply, ever come down to visit. You and dad are still wrapped up in your own little world, I was never part of that before and I sure as hell am not part of it now. I never will be, I never was one of you; you and dad had your own thing going on even of you never spoke in front of me. I always saw you and dad drive out every morning, silently and oblivious to each other as if you both never existed on each other's eyes. I know how many times I say this, it's so tedious but I will say it again and again. Why wasn't I as important? Why was leaving with dad every morning more important that staying with me? Every bloody morning Dean, every god damn morning of every god damn day you did this. Why?

Sam. W

9th May 2003

Dear Dean,

Jess took me out for my birthday, it was fun, I at least went out. Apparently it had been days since I left the apartment, didn't even notice, how time flies. However long I was cooped inside, Jess wasn't having it. It was fun I guess, Jess didn't mind Brady coming along, well I'm pretty sure she didn't mind. She didn't say a single thing to him; he sort of just was in the background drinking. It was interesting I guess but fun nevertheless. I guess human interaction isn't that bad, not that I don't have any, which I do. Luce and Brady talk to me every day; they're all the company I need really. Most people are boring anyways… except you. You were never boring.

Sam. W.

4th July 2003

Dear Dean,

Hey Dean, remember way back when we were little, like in 1996, we snuck into a field and let off fireworks and after dad yelled at me all night for being 'irresponsible'? I remember that well, I don't know about you because according to your retelling we burnt the whole field down. Now see, I do not remember it like that, fire yes but the whole field? That's a bit of a stretch. I mean, when was the last time we ever did that before I well… left. Maybe that's another reason why, we never really were a proper family.

Sam. W.

21st September 2003

Dear Dean,

Dean I think they're coming for me, the men with the black eyes, they're everywhere. Every street I turn down into, every shop, every corner and every restaurant, they're coming for me, I know it. They killed mum, now it's my turn. I know it is. Brady said he'd protect me but what's he gonna' do against demons? He can't do anything Dean, I am alone and I have to face them, I'm sorry Dean, maybe this is my goodbye. I don't want it to be, because that means I'll never see you again. All I know for sure is the demons are coming; they're coming to drag me into hell. Lucifer said so. He's always right.

Sam. W.

28th December 2003

Dear Dean,

It's Jess, Jess is one of them. I know what I have to do. It's for our own good. Maybe I am saving her; perhaps the afterlife would be kind to her too. I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry.

Sam. W.


	5. Chapter 4

The bit in the middle

For three years, every month Sam sent out a letter to Dean, each letter started the same, each one ending the same way. Dear Dean. They all sang their own unique song, crying out for Dean in their own different way, the longing and need masking itself in the mountains of words and senseless stories.

Each letter found its way to a city, nowhere in particular, just cities where Dean might be. They traveled alongside Sam's false hope that somehow, somewhere Dean might receive a letter and know Sam still cared. So that Dean knew exactly how much Sam cared, how much Sam misses his brother and how each night his heart and soul cried out for Dean. Sam sent out the letters so Dean would know how much he meant to Sam, that every inch of him cried out for his brother. Sam knew Dean traveled for his work, so one day, no matter how far in the future Dean would find one of his letters, and in turn, find him.

* * *

20th February 2004

The gentle reassuring rumble of the car's engine always soothed Dean's mind, after all, it was a he had left. The constant need to travel around the country for work and reside in the same dank cheap motels left Dean homeless most of his adult life, the impala was the only thing that remained. Everything else had left him, his family, Bobby, and Sam… worst of all Sam.

It was only an hour or so after Dean had checked into the motel when someone gently knocked on the shoddy, half dismantled door requesting his presence. Letting out a huff of annoyance Dean managed to peal himself away from the coffee stained couch and lumbered towards the door.

Dean's fingers curled around the doorknob as he slowly opened the door, the hinges creaking and groaning from the rust and neglect. A small letter sat on the floor mat outside his door addressed to him in the all too familiar handwriting. The messy scrawl of the black pen against the stark white envelope stood out like a sore thumb, Dean Winchester.

Those two words sent a rush of butterflies through Dean's stomach, but these were more like a swarm of Amazonian butterflies scraping against the lining of his stomach. Slowly reaching down with a shacking hand Dean plucked up the letter, glazing intently at the two words that marked the front of the envelope. This was _Sam_, it couldn't be anyone else. Could it?

Over two years Dean has waited for Sam, over two years Dean has traveled alone whenever the job called and never did he receive a single call, message or anything from Sam. I mean how could he? Sam ran away, leaving Dean alone to rot from the inside out.

Dean was abandoned and left utterly alone, not a single person remained in his life that he could claim as family and then Dean waited. Waited for days, even months for his self-destruction and inevitable demise but it never really came. Just the same self-hatred, meaningless sex alcohol addiction that fueled him for years.

It lurked in the corners of his mind, teasing him, prodding and poking. It knew Dean; it knew exactly how to break him and it waited, waited for its moment to strike. Dean never anticipated it would be because of a simple letter, a letter addressed to him. Dean Winchester.

* * *

Dean's hands shook as he gazed at the foreign paper in his hands, trembling slightly; he knew this letter would undo him. Ignoring his mind screaming at him to stop, it was his heart that was in complete control, it was his heart that tore open the envelope and plucked out the letter.

That's when he started to read, the date was marked on the top of the page, 27th April, 2003, it was the date struck Dean. A year ago Sam sent this letter, sent it into nowhere, a deadbeat town, just purely relying on the hope Dean would find it… and he did.

That's when he started reading…

_Dear Dean,_

_Why do I do this, why do I still write to you. It's not like you'll ever reply, ever come down to visit._

Those words struck Dean; it was like someone plunged their hand into Dean's chest and started to squeeze his heart. His throat started to constrict as his mouth turned dry. Dean knew his hands were shaking, the word _still_ echoed through his head. Forcing himself to read on Dean forced his hands to stop shaking.

If the first line made him feel like this, who knows what reading whole letter would do to him. Dean certainly was not going to survive this, or at least come out unscathed.

_You and dad are still wrapped up in your own little world,_

Dean's breath haltered for a moment, the word _dad _floated in front of his eyes. Dean hadn't seen John since… a very long time ago. How could Sam ever think…? Dean just pushed those ideas out of the already whirlwind in his brain that was his thoughts. There were more important things instead of his father to think about… like Sam. But why was Sam talking about John?

_I was never part of that before and I sure as hell am not part of it now. I never will be, I never was one of you; you and dad had your own thing going on even if you never spoke in front of me. I always saw you and dad drive out every morning, silently and oblivious to each other as if you both never existed on each other's eyes. I know how many times I say this, it's so tedious but I will say it again and again. Why wasn't I as important? Why was leaving with dad every morning more important that staying with me?_

Dean's fingers curled around the corners of the letting, the paper crumpling in his tight grip. How could Sam ever think something like that ever happened? Dean certainly never snuck out all the time in the morning. So what he left for the job early, but he was not sneaking.

Dean's eyes skimmed over the rest before resting on Sam's name that was neatly placed at the bottom.

_Sam. W._

Each letter carried its own elegance, a purpose. Each stoke held its own personality and strength that was in Sam. Dean knew he had to track down these letters. He needed to do it for Sam.

Not one did he ever consider that maybe not everything was _for _Sam but for him, a way to piece back his soul one tiny piece at a time. Sam was the missing piece and Dean was sure as hell gonna find him.

* * *

**REVIEWS AND STUFF ARE MUCH APPRECIATED. I'M ALSO ON AO3 - ** /works/2277225/chapters/5004102 **SO YEAH. THANK YOU TO THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ THIS. **


	6. Chapter 5

Sam's fingers curled around the lighter, his gaze never leaving Jess. He knew he had to do this, destroy the thing that was in Jess, he was saving her, saving her from herself. Sam knew if he didn't do this now, Jess would do it to him later; she was now a monster after all. Without as much as a flinch Sam dropped the lighter on the floor, letting it ignite the gasoline drenched wood.

The fire moves through the room like a giant wave, the lambent tongues gliding over the wood, and with its twisted, mesmerizing dance it engulfed everything in its path, including Sam and Jess. The inferno claimed every inch of the house as its own, everything was at the mercy of its destructive nature. The world faded away, the only thing that remained was memories buried under a ton of burnt wood and ash.

* * *

A month earlier

Dean was becoming undone; his essence was slowly unravelling till all that was left was a pile of skin and bones moving around without much purpose. These last few weeks had taken a toll on Dean; he spent every waking minute searching for the letters Sam had sent out. He had already collected a years and a half worth of letters. Each time he read them it pulled him apart even more, each word slowly tugging and pulling at his heart, each time Sam said the words 'I miss you' sent shivers down Dean's spine. He had failed his brother once; he wasn't going to fail him again.

For the first week Dean spent each passing day searching relentlessly, passing through cities, heading anywhere without direction. The only thing he had on his mind was Sam. Find Sam's letters, and find Sam. That was his only objective, work could wait, nothing is more important than finding his little brother, Dean couldn't name anything that could ever be more important than finding every single one of Sam's letters. That was, until he got the call.

* * *

Two weeks later

It had taken Dean days to drive back to Bobby's place, he hated coming here, there were too many memories, too many things that reminded him of the life he use to have. Dean loved Bobby, hell, the man practically raised him; he owned the old basted a lot. Dean wouldn't have come if Bobby hadn't mentioned the two words that occupied his mind for the most part, 'Sam' and 'letter,' these were the only two important words at this moment in time. Soon it'd only be 'find Sam.' Find that stupid, annoying baby brother.

As he pulled up the impala outside the old Singer salvage yard and walked slowly to the front door, his hands in his pockets. God it had been way over two years since he had last laid eyes on this old dump, well it was home sweet home for the most part. Dean took a deep breath before rapping his knuckles against the door, impatiently waiting for Bobby to open the door.

He needed to know what was on the letter, what was so god damn important for him to come here. The thought was occupying Dean's min, making it impossible to concentrate on anything else, what could've Sam have said that got Bobby's knickers in such a twist.

Thinking about it Dean noted about ninety percent of Sam's letters were either about Brady, school or any other irrelevant information that Dean didn't think much of. Whereas the other ten percent was purely dedicated to making Dean feel like absolute crap. Those stupid letters filled with every feeling of rejection, need, loneliness Sam felt made Dean want to rip out his heart and send it to Sam in the post with a 'I'm sorry' note pinned to it.

Dean noted his heart rate rapidly increase in his heart rate, he didn't realize how nervous he had gotten over this encounter. Rocking slightly on two feet he straightened his posture as the door swung open, only to reveal a rather disgruntled looking Bobby.

"Heya Bobby, been a while" Dean's mouth curved into a small sideward smile, seeing Bobby standing in front of him now Dean only realized just how much he missed his old life.

"Just get over here you idjit" Bobby just smiled as Dean threw his arms around Bobby in a sloppy hug.

The embrace didn't last too long but it was enough to sate Dean's butterflies, "The letter, the one Sam sent, where is it? It better be something important." Dean's voice came out as a harsh mumble, hoping it'd drown out the rapid beating of his heart.

Dean wasn't sure if he would completely fall apart with this but he needed to do it. For Sam, that's the only motivation he had, or needed. No matter how much he just wanted to push this all away and drown it out with booze and meaningless sex with whoever he could get his hands on.

"Dean, I'm gonna need you to calm the hell down. Freaking out like this ain't gonna help Sam" Bobby just shook his head and walked back inside the house, beckoning Sam to follow. "And standing out there isn't going to help either, just get in here and shut the door. I'll get the letter."

With a jerky nod Dean stepped inside and locked the door, gazing outside at the impala for a moment before locking the door behind him. The house hadn't changed much; it was in the exact same condition as it was when Dean left all of those years ago. Books were piled up in every corner, littering the house, covering every table service; even the staircase was being used as a bookshelf. Dean had to admit he was impressed, every guy has gotta have a hobby.

Dean's butterflies returned, but these seemed more like a pair of birds taking nest in his stomach, causing his throat to restrict and heart to thump so loudly it might as well just jump out of his chest. What the hell is on that letter? _Sam… what have you gotten yourself into._

Bobby emerged again, stepping out from behind the door with the letter in hand. The top was torn off, so Bobby _had_ read it. That just reassured Dean even more, well isn't this all just so reassuring.

"Well this is it, it's not much but… well, you'll see." Dean bolted over and practically tore the message from Bobby's grip, he needed to read this, and he needed to know.

_Dear Dean,_

_It's Jess, Jess is one of them. I know what I have to do. It's for our own good. Maybe I am saving her; perhaps the afterlife would be kind to her too. I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry._

_Sam. W._

Dean read the note over and over. Jess… that girl Sam got with. He checked the date, 28th December of last year, not that long ago. Sam couldn't have, could he? This has to be a joke, it has to be, right?

Bobby cleared his throat slightly making Dean look up, "I called because another one came a few days ago, maybe a few hours before I called. Dean, I think it is time you went to find Sam"

Bobby handed Dean a piece of crumpled paper with a few words scrawled on it, this one was shorter than the other one; it was messier and lacking well… Sam. He looked at the paper, unsure if he actually wanted to read it but it's not like he'll be able to dig himself in a bigger hole anyways, god he was so wrong. He looked at the two accursed words on the page, the two words Dean dreaded. _I'm sorry_.

'I'm sorry'; those two words could have meant anything, but Dean knew. He knew Sam did the deed, he knew Sam has or is going to make the biggest mistake of his life and Dean _knew_ he was going to be the one to stop it. He will be the one to save Sam from himself.

Dean's voice was strained, his hands shaking slightly at the thought of his brothers self-destructive personality. "Bobby, I need to go. Sam… he, he needs me. I will call you as soon as I get there. I'll see you later, ok?"

"You better call; I don't want you hurtin' Sam any more than he is hurting himself. Hurrying and go you idiot. You're not getting any younger." Dean smiled slightly at Bobby's words before bolting out the door and grabbing the keys to the impala.

Bobby watched Dean slide into the driver's seat with ease and start up the engine before driving out of there like a bat out of hell. All Bobby could say is that kid is really something special, much like his old man, may his soul rest in peace.

* * *

Dean couldn't have left any faster, his hands lightly tapped against the impala's steering wheel as he whistled to himself. Dean refused to believe what those letters said, sure Sam was a bit kooky and paranoid, and he's been like that since Dean could remember. Well since Dad…. This could just be another one of Sam's… breakdowns. Sam hasn't ever hurt anyone and never will; Dean couldn't be surer. For god's sake the kid almost cried when he saw road kill on the side of the road, he wouldn't lay a single finger on Jess like that. The kid was too nice, there's no way in hell he would. He's just confused. Dean's grip tightened on the steering as he let his thoughts wonder to something that was not Sam. It was him and the road

Stanford University, that's what his next location was. This was going to be a long drive, but hey, it was all for Sammy. Remember?

* * *

Now

When Sam said he had a surprise for her Jess couldn't help but feel excited, I mean, who doesn't like surprises but right now Jess was really questioning who does, especially when they involve getting tied to a chair and gagged. Let's just say it wasn't exactly number one on Jess's to do list for the day, but Sam had other things on his mind and not the things that normal couples do.

Jess struggled against ropes that bound her to the chair, with each struggle the ropes slowly stripping back her skin, leaving raw wounds encircling her wrists. She watched Sam walk around the room splattering gasoline over every inch of wall and furniture

Jess was able to catch a few words, but it wasn't what she hoped for, it wasn't exactly _'surprise! Ok jokes over, let's get some lunch,_' but more along the lines of '_hope you had fun, now you die.'_ Jess continued to strain her ears, picking up as much as she could but the more she heard the more her heart fell.

_… Monster..._

_… You killed Jess..._

_… You'll pay… _

_… Have fun in hell…_

Sam was having a psychotic break; yep that's what it is. Jess just kept repeating the same mantra over and over in her head; _everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine… everything is go- crap._

Everything was not going to be fine, this man standing in front of her was not Sam, and this man was going to kill her. Jess just closed her eyes and prayed, prayed that wherever her Sam was, he will save her. _Sam, wherever you are, whatever has happened to you just know I love you, please come back to me. Please, Sam… for me_

* * *

Sam's eyes were fixed on Jessica, gazing at the _thing _that was to be his girlfriend, but she was gone, Jess was gone. Replaced with this black eyed monster, this no longer was Jess, she had to go. His fingers curled around the lighter, the voice in the back of his mind taunted him 'do it. Kill her. She's a monster, she needs to die.' Sam was all but ok with the situation but he had a job to do, he had to kill monsters. That's what his dad raised him to do, that's what that nonstop training was. He was a hunter and he had to do this. The voice got louder, it was screaming at him now, just saying the same words over and over, taunting him, testing him. '_Do it, kill her. Come on, do it. Kill her.'_

He flicked the lighter on and let it slip out of his hand; the flames quickly consumed the room, turning everything into ash without a moment's hesitation. Sam's feet felt like they were rooted to the spot, the voice whispering gently in his ear, _'why bother running, you're a monster too Sam. You know you are. Why run? There's no hope for you out there now. Murderer'_

The fire was consuming them; Sam could feel it run over his leg, teasing the material of his pants before igniting them. He watched the inferno slowly eat at Jess's flesh, consuming her in seconds, only leaving behind mutilated flesh and the putrid smell of cooked meat. Sam didn't know exactly when he passed out from the fumes but all he knew was that he was lying at Jess's feet, unable to move, knowing his time had come. It was over, the inevitable had come, but he did what he needed to, rid the world of monsters. He was just lucky he was able to get rid of two at once.

Everyone said you see your life flash before your eyes before you died, every happy memory, every moment you cherished in life. How they were so wrong. The only thing that bubbled to the surface of Sam's consciousness was Dean. The way he smiled down at Sam proudly every time he brought back an A from school, the way his corner of his eyes crinkled every time he did smile the green of his eyes. Each though of every moment that he had spent with Dean flashed before him, not all were happy or even close to his happiest but it was something; much better than he expected. He felt relaxed, content, his life wasn't over. He knew there was something waiting for him over at the other side.

**TBC**

* * *

**Sorry this update took a while, next one should come sooner or maybe I'll just make you all wait. You can find this fic on AO3 here - ** /works/2277225/chapters/5004102


	7. Chapter 6

Dean couldn't run faster when he saw smoke billowing out of Sam's house, the entire place was a raging inferno, the fire has spread throughout the entire complex. It looked empty, abandoned; the only noise was the cracking noise of the flame as it burnt bright. Dean knew Sam was in there, so was Jess. Sam had done this, he lit the fire and he was letting it consume him. Sam might have given up but Dean hadn't he could still save Sam. Sam could be saved; there was not a single doubt in Dean's mind that he couldn't help his brother. Everyone can be saved, right?

The door burst open as the heel of Dean's boot came in contact with it, the scorched wood falling away with the force of the kick. Splinters and soot filled the air as the door came down; the intensity of the fog blinding him, restricting his senses till they basically were useless. All Dean could see was blackness but that didn't stop him barging into the house, his jacket dampened and wrapped around his head to block out most of the smoke filled air. Sam was in here with Jess somewhere and Dean was sure as hell gonna rescue their sorry arses. All Dean could do was scream, scream till his lungs gave in and until he found his brother, but the only thing that screaming that occurred was a woman's voice in the back room. _Jess…_

_Gotta find Sam…_

_Rescue Sam…_

_Sam…_

_SAM_

_Sammy!_

*.*.*.*

The night Dean rescued Sam was a blur or reds and blacks, the unforgettable stench of burning flesh clotted up his nose, the soot clotted up his lungs but compared to Sam he came out more or less unscathed. They said it was a malfunctioning spark plug, Dean wished he could believe it, Dean wished he could push the image of Sam's letters out of his mind. Sam's words cut deeper than any blade could, held more truth than any book, masked more sorrow than a graveyard. Sam's letters held the truth and Dean would do anything to hide them and protect Sam. He has to.

Dean refused to leave Sam's side after his burns and cuts were treated. Three days he was trapped in a hospital bed slipping in and out of consciousness, unable to see Sam, unable to see if Sam made it through. After Dean was released he made the small chair in Sam's room his home, he only left it to eat, shower or go to the bathroom. He was going to be here when Sam woke up, and nothing was going to stop that.

*.*.*.*

Sam couldn't remember being carried out of the fire, all he knew was he woke up in a stark white room with a fluorescent light beaming down on his face, taking over most of his hazy vision. Sam could feel the IV pressing in his arm and the breathing tube that ran down his throat pumping clean air into his lungs. He couldn't speak or move, not that he had the strength to anyways, and he had too many drugs in him, keeping him for the most part sedated and unaware.

Sam was barely conscience; the only thing he felt was the crushing weight of pain and the ache in his muscles, the rest would come later. The word pain is just a taste of the feeling, who knew how much emotion and feeling could be disguised a four letter word. Pain is a way to describe what it feels like to bump your elbow or scrape your knee. What Sam was feeling now was past pain, it was an indescribable feeling, emotions and sensations all rolled into one.

His bones felt like lead and his muscles felt like they were jello in the hands of a three year old, it was like someone ripped out his lungs and threw them in the washing machine. Sam didn't know what it was like to swallow razors but he could imagine it felt something like this; the sharp pains in his stomach and chest were almost unbearable. Pain…. The only four letter word in the dictionary that was relevant at this moment, the only four letter word that Sam could feel. It clouded his vision, blocking out rational though, that's all that Sam felt and thought… pain. Who knew such a small smile word could encapsulate such emotion; it seemed like such a weak word but for that moment in time it was such a perfect word. Such a simple word; so much feeling hidden with four letters.

After what seemed like fifteen minutes of straining and wincing Sam managed to prop his head up on the pillow, letting the fatigue and dizziness wash away, the room slowly came into focus; it no longer was just a white blur of meaningless objects. Sam's gaze diverted to the heart monitor and the bag of IV fluid that was steadily being pumped into his body, keeping him alive. At least the machinery served as a distraction from the large tube that was sticking out of his chest draining the fluids that had built up in his lungs and the tube that was wedged down his throat force-feeding him oxygen. Sam considered pulling them out, letting himself drown in the too white room of the hospital. No big loss there. Just one less monster in this godforsaken world… one less monster that should have died in the fire, one less monster to fail every single person he loves.

Sam knew he had failed, he failed Jess, he failed Dean and he failed killing both monsters in that house. Sam was a failure and he knew it, the voices knew it… Hell, even bloody Lucifer knew it. They liked to remind him every night, whispering in his ear, invading his dreams. Sam was a failure, unwanted and unneeded, an insignificant speck in the cosmos. He had to die; he was supposed to die; now he even failed at that too. Sam knew if he had the strength he would smother himself with a pillow but moving more than a muscle at a time seemed like an impossible task. That could wait till later; there were other important things to attend to, like wake up Dean who was sprawled across the chair on the other side of the small room, with his head lolling to the side.

*.*.*.*

The soft grunt woke Dean up with a start; he half fell half leapt out of the chair and stumbled to Sam's side. Somehow the kid had managed to lift his head up against the bed frame; Sam was awake and staring at Dean through hooded lids, his expression dazed and vacant. Dean didn't know what to do, what to say, it had been three years since they had last spoken to each other, and three years since Sam ran out on Dean. Three fucking years of Dean's life spent mostly alone, trying to find any job to keep him distracted long enough without thinking 'I wonder if Sam's ok.'

"Heya Sammy…" Dean's smile was faint, barely traceable as he gently placed a hand on Sam's bandaged arms.

The only thing Sam managed was a soft grunt that was mostly muffled by the ventilators tube in his mouth. He peered at Dean with sad, wide eyes, Dean was with Sam ay his most vulnerable and Dean was not going stuff this up like he fucked everything else up. Yep, Dean was definitely going to crash and burn

"I'm gonna go get the nurse and see if they can get this thing out ok?" Sam just gave Dean a jerky nod and sunk back into the bed.

Dean rushed out of the door as fast as he could, Sam needed him and he was running. Running from the one thing he left in his life… Well second if you count the impala… and Bobby, but that was beside the point. Dean was running and he wasn't sure if he wasn't to go back.

*.*.*.*

Sam blinked back the small tears that were beginning to form in the corner of his eyes, Dean was back, and Dean came back for _him_. Sam didn't know why he was crying, Dean was here and maybe, just maybe everything was going to be ok. Slowly Sam reached up and dried his eyes, waiting patiently for Dean to return, because Dean _was_ going to return.

Sam waited, his gaze never leaving the clock as minutes slowly ticked by. Time was moving too slowly, _where was Dean? He promised…._ Sam could feel his throat close up; Dean was supposed to be here, be here with him. Sam could feel himself start to panic; he squeezed his eyes shut in hope to block out the taunting laugh that was hiding in the back of his mind.

_Why am I alive…?_

_I shouldn't be…_

_I should be dead…_

_Monsters deserve to die…_

_Dean…_

Sam didn't know when he fell asleep but he jolted awake as he felt someone grip his arm, shouting his name over and over. Sam kept his eyes shit tightly, reality was calling and he didn't want to go back.

*.*.*.*

Dean only stepped out of the room for a few minutes, or so he thought. Now that Sam had woken up they had to decide what to do. If they needed to keep him in intensive care any longer or move him to a normal room. Sam was more or less stable, the fluid had drained from his lungs and there was no risk of any major issues… for now.

The hospital was buzzing with activity, nurses running up and down corridors delivering prescriptions and sorting out patients. It was like a sad song, the sound of hurried footsteps mixed with the whirring of machines and the light tapping noise of nails against keyboards. The song of the hospital was mournful, filled with pain and misery. It was driving Dean crazy; he just wanted to grab Sam and go, ran as far as they can from this damn hospital. Dean quickly apologized to the staff and headed right back to Sam's room, he was not going to spend another minute out hear. Not now; not with Sam lying in a hospital bed with fifty tubes sticking out of him.

Dean couldn't have walked any faster back to Sam's room, his heart pounding in time with his footsteps, in amongst the scramble and rush Dean almost toppling over a stretcher that was being carted away. Dean wasn't sure why he needed to see Sam so badly but he knew something was wrong, '_Sam is in bloody hospital and I leave him alone, great brother aren't.' _Dean sped to Sam's side, gently placing his hand over Sam's, absentmindedly rubbing Sam's palm with his thumb.

"Hey, Sam, you awake" Dean leaned forward, gazing at Sam closely, gently tucking away a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

"Sammy, come on. Wake up, the nurse is coming round soon." Panic overtook Dean as Sam remained as motionless and unresponsive, his breathing forced by the machine that was keeping him more or less, well, alive.

"Sammy, Sam. C'mon Sammy. Wake up. Open your eyes. The nurse is coming now" Dean gripped Sam's arm, trying to shake him awake. "Sammy, it's me, Dean. Dude, you gotta' wake up. Sam, please" Dean's voice was nothing more than a jumble of pleads and panicked stutters. Sam had to wake up. He always did.

*.*.*.*

Sam could feel a presence teasing the corners of his mind, alerting his unconscious mind. The muffled words reverberated through his skull, saying the same thing over and over. 'Wake up Sammy.' The voice grew more urgent, louder, Sam could feel his conscience being pushed and pulled, stretched and teased like an elastic band before being forced wide open.

_'Sammy it's me Dean.'_

Sam's eyes started to flutter open, the grogginess washing away slowly as Dean's voice coaxed him awake. "It's ok Sammy, it's just me, they said they're gonna take out that tube. Sounds good hey?" Sam gave Dean a small nod, he wished he could close up on himself and disappear, wilt away like an unattended flower in the heat on a summer's day.

Dean opened his mouth to apologise for everything they went through but shut his mouth when Sam's gaze flickered to the door as a doctor walked in, followed closely behind by a nurse. They both carried wearily expressions that were masked by large smiles; the nurse clutched a clipboard and a bowl against her chest, her gaze going back and forth from Sam and Dean.

The nurse's face was cold and calculating, even though the fake smile she put on was filled with a false sense of warmth and glamour, Sam knew, Sam knew what she really was**.** Sam could see the demonic manic, he could see the blackness in her eyes, her true face that was hidden beneath her girlish features and soft brown hair. The doctor however gave off an aura of warmth and kindness; his smile radiated a sense of reassurance, even though his smile was forced, unable to form properly from weariness and weight he carried. Sam knew he could trust him… unlike the demon next to him. His black hair was tussled slightly, sweeping upwards; his piercing blue eyes were fixed on the two brothers, going back and forth from Dean, to Sam… to Dean.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything." The doctor's voice was deep, slightly guttural, even his voice sounded force like every other action, forced and uptight. Sam's eyes locked onto the doctor's sunken ones, reading the man silently, calculation, judging.

"I apologise for the rude interruption but I'm going to be Sam's doctor for the duration of his stay. I am Doctor Novak; this is… my assistant Meg."

Breaking Sam from his thoughts Doctor Novak continued to speak, his voice lightening slightly but still carrying the same tired tone. "I'm just here to remove the ventilator tube and I'll be out of your way. This procedure will feel uncomfortable and Mag has a bowl for…just in case"

Sam just nodded slightly, as they both made their way to Sam's side, the nurse, Meg, completely ignored Dean's existence as she pushed him aside to stand next to the doctor. She gripped the remote to the bed tightly in her hand as if she was ready to hit Sam over the head with it as she lifted the bed so Sam was propped upwards. Fear flashed across Sam's eyes as Meg took a step back, not bothering to cover her smirk as Doctor Novak started to sort out the equipment.

Meg thrust the bowl in Sam's hands, hovering over Doctor Novak's shoulder, scrutinizing his every move. Doctor Novak started fiddling with the tube, Sam tried looked at what the doctor was doing but with no avail, only going cross-eyed and receiving a small chuckle from Dean. Huffing slightly Sam turned his gaze away and stared blankly at the door, that's when he felt something tug in the inside of his throat.

*.*.*.*

Time seemed to slow down for Dean as he watched the long tube slowly being removed from Sam. Dean could feel his stomach and throat seize up as Sam grabbed the bowl and emptied the contents of his stomach into it. A mixture of fluids, bile and blood splattered into the bowl, painting it with red. Sam remained unmoving, leaning over towards the bowl, letting blood run from his mouth with each violent cough.

Dean couldn't take any longer, sitting there watching his brother cough up half of his lungs whilst the doctor stood there watching, watching a kid suffer without as much as a blink.

Gripping Doctor Novak's shoulders, Dean pulled him closer, basically screaming in his face. "He's coughing up fucking blood! Why are you just standing there? Do something!" Dean could feel himself teasing the boarders of hysteria, ignoring the fact that his fingers were digging into the soft flesh of the young doctor's shoulders.

Placing a gentle hand over Dean's, Doctor Novak gave Dean's hand a reassuring squeeze, completely oblivious to the sharp pain that was "Your brother will be fine, that is just the excess of what remains in his stomach. It is perfectly normal. Now if you could let go of my arm that would be great"

Hesitantly Dean released his grip, shoving his hand in his pocket before moving back to Sam's side, running his free hand through Sam's hair murmuring soft reassuring words. As Sam started to relax with Dean's touches, Meg set to work adjusting a new set of tubes that neatly went up Sam's nostrils, supplying him with clean air. After pushing Dean aside and giving Sam a few tests Meg gave the doctor an 'okay' and walked out of the room.

"Make sure you call me if you need anything or feeling ill at all, make sure you get some rest. I will be back later to check your progress." Turning his head to Dean Doctor Novak also added in the same deep rumbling tone of his voice, "He's a fighter, don't worry Dean. He'll been fine. He's lucky to have you."

Giving the doctor a quick nod, Dean turned back to Sam, his fingers interlaced with his brothers. "Hey Sammy. I hope you're feeling better than you look cause you look like road kill."

Pausing for a moment, Dean grinned down at Sam before adding "Bitch"

The corners of Sam's lips twitched slightly as a small smile formed on his fragile features.

"Jerk"

**Sorry this took so long to update. My computer crashed and I lost half of the fic and it took a ot of motivation to re-write. This is un-beta'd so reviews would be awesome. Be expecting a small chapter coming out soon or later this morning**


	8. Chapter 7

Days passed by slowly, repeating the same thing over and over like Groundhog Day. Dean would turn up to the hospital every day at seven am without fail and sit by Sam's side, watching over him, talking, making the kid smile. He was like Sam's guardian angel; everyone could see that, especially Doctor Novak. He just wished Dean had an angel of his own to take care of him, Dean certainly needed it.

At around midday everyday either Meg or Doctor Novak would come in and check up on Sam, run a few tests then leave. Dean would stumble home at nine o'clock every night when a doctor came over and kicked him out leaving Dean in his small rented apartment alone to drink himself to death whilst his baby brother rotted alone in that hospital.

*.*.*.*

As weeks slowly came and went Dean started to grow closer to Doctor Novak. Dean found that with Sam's speedy recovery he was actually able to go out and do things like a regular person… all with doctor Novak of course. The more time Dean spent with the uptight doctor the more he was able to relax. Dean _knew_ Sam was going to be ok, he _knew_ that soon Sam would be able to leave and they were going to get the hell out of this town and never look back.

There was one problem…

Dean would never look back and see that stupidly adorable face Doctor Novak pull's whenever Dean makes a pop culture reference he doesn't understand. This man was surely going to be his downfall.

*.*.*.*

The weeks leading up to Sam's release Dean spent as much time as he could with doctor Novak. Dean could only say the experience was… educational. He learnt that the doctor was a complete tight ass and dedicated his life to work, he learnt that doctor Novak hated being called by his doctoral title in 'such informal and unprofessional circumstances' so he should just call him Castiel. Dean learnt that Doctor Novak… Castiel… wanted to leave the hospital and start his own clinic using his number of different doctor's degrees. Dean learnt that he only had three day's left with this annoying, frustrating excuse of a doctor and he had never been more terrified.

*.*.*.*

Dean smiled softly to himself as he walked towards the coffee shop, if this was going to be their last day together he sure as hell were going to make it a good one. Dean could see the man's unkempt hair from the other side of the courtyard, sitting there absorbed in a book still in his scrubs made him stick out like a sore thumb. Approaching Castiel, Dean slipped into the seat opposite him, beaming widely.

"Heya Cas. What you reading?" Glancing upwards, Castiel lifted the book upwards letting Dean see the title of the medical textbook not tearing his away from the page. "Aw c'mon, you can't be studying now. Can't you do this another time?"

Without as much as a glance in Dean's direction Cas just nodded slightly, "Dean you must know that it is paramount that I pass my exams. Dean you have to understand tha-"

Dean wasn't going to hear it any longer, he was sick of Castiel's bullshit excuses why he couldn't meet up with Dean or why he was distracted or god forbid why he should take his head out of a god damn book for a minute. So of course Dean was going to take it into his own hands, if this was their last god damned meeting before Dean went back over to the hospital in less than half an hour to pick up Sam. So Dean did what any sane person would do in that situation, with a firm grip he reached over the table and grabbed Castiel's shirt, his fingers curling round the fabric and pulled him in, roughly pressing his lips against the startled Doctors. It certainly wasn't the greatest executed kiss, their teeth knocked together; Cas was struggling to find a foothold, but it certainly was the best kiss he had ever experience. The world blurred around him as Cas left out a soft moan against Dean's lips, and for the second time that day Dean made a decision but maybe this was less wise, he let go of Cas Dean bolted out of the chair and storming away without looking back.

*.*.*.*

Castiel watched Dean walk away, his mouth open from the initial shock. That was certainly the most interesting and pleasant good bye Castiel had ever received but it made it hurt more. It made the throb of his heart feel like someone had plunged their hand in his chest and squeezed. The world blurred around Cas as Dean walked away, each person was an insignificant blur of color in the dull world, an illusion of color and a trick to the eye.

*.*.*.*

Dean couldn't have signed papers fast enough; he needed to get out of this god damned town as fast as he could. Like hell he was going to stay here just because of one stupid doctor, he was going to take Sammy and run, running after all was what Dean did best. Dean ran his whole life, re ran away from school, ran away from work, responsibilities and people, but that was ok. He had Sammy, who was alive and pretty much alright besides the bandages that covered most of the right side of his chest and thighs, but he was alive and that's all that mattered. Getting Sam and leaving was the plan, an insignificant asshole of a doctor was not going to change that. No matter how adorable he looked when he pouted.

Dean had already prepared the car; a suitcase of clothes and equipment for had been fitted in the back, the chair pulled back for Sam and his wheelchair had been fitted neatly in the backseat. Dean wheeled Sam out of the hospital, laughing to himself as Sam argued that he wasn't a baby.

"Less than five minutes of freedom and you're already complaining"

All that helped with was an unwelcomed punch to the shoulder and a scowl that could have had monsters fleeing. After squabbling and throwing insults at each other Dean was able to help Sam climb into the passenger's seat before sliding into his own, starting up the car before sliding in an ACDC tape.

Grabbing the box of tapes, Sam started to sift through them, "I swear man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

"Why?"

"Well for one they're cassette tapes, and two, Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

"House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," Dean flicked on the music, letting his fingers tap along to the beat.

Huffing in annoyance Sam sunk into his seat, crossing his arms as Dean started to speed away from the hospital. "Y'know 'Sammy' is a chubby twelve year old. It's Sam okay"

With a grin Dean reached out and started to turn the music up, drowning out Sam's voice in the loud beat. "Sorry I can't hear you, the music's too loud"

With a roll of his eyes Sam sunk down into his seat and closed his eyes, moving and shifting about as he tried not to rub the bandages against the rough leather of the car.

_This kid is going to be the death of me. _Dean didn't really care, as long as they were on the road with miles between them and that town Dean didn't care if he was stringed up in Hell for the next 40 years. He was ok and so was Sam. Dean couldn't ask for anything more. He just drove and drove to wherever this highway was taking them. Dean was going to protect Sammy no matter what.

**What?! two chapters in one day? I was originally going to time skip all of this so I just wrote a few events that took place (revolving around Dean) in the time Sam was sick. I left it vague and short. The rest is to your imagination. Any queries message me or send me an email at eraik59 . Thank you to the people who have reviewed/followed and given this story a like. It means a lot. Thank you guys. xx**


	9. Chapter 8

After three weeks in the road, stopping off at any motel that had a room available, Sam had started to recover, the changes were only slight but it was progress. His breathing sounded less forced, less loud; he didn't wince at every movement or every time he tried getting settled on the couch or bed. Most of his injuries had healed; it was the burns that laced around Sam's lower back that worried Dean. The swelling was still there but the bleeding had stopped for the most part.

The fire had peeled away the majority of Sam's sun kissed skin, leaving behind patches of mottled skin. Most of the skin in Sam's lower back was a sickly white or a shade of pink depending on how the wound was healing. The areas of skin that hadn't been burnt away mottled Sam's back leaving tanned spots along his back, discolouring it and making the white stand out that much more. The area's that were still healing were still a vibrant red colour, Sam's flesh visible in the area's that skin hadn't covered or healed properly over. Blood occasionally surfaced over the flesh whenever Dean removed the bandages to help Sam lather the wound with the burn cream the nurse gave Dean at the hospital.

Dean watched Sam like a hawk every night, his gaze never wavering as his brothers lumbering form climbed into the bed. Sam's muffled wince cut through the silence that was oozing into the room, coated everything like a thick black slime, engulfing everything until the entire world was filled with total darkness. His voice was like a light, a simple orb cutting through the gloom and illuminating the room ever so slightly, just enough for Dean to see the contorted expression of pain on Sam's face.

Dean knew he couldn't send Sam back to hospital; their money was running out and Dean forked out the last lot of cash paying for the motel and Sam's medication. All Dean could do was to just wait and watch Sam suffer until they arrived at Bobby's.

"Hey, Sammy, you ok?" Dean could feel his voice crack slightly; no power or reassurance came from the words. Just a months' worth of sleepless nights and evenings drowned in alcohol when the sound of Sam's damaged breathing and constant pain became too much.

A muffled 'yes' was all that Dean got as a reply. Dean knew that Sam was hiding something more; he could see it in Sam's face, the hidden taint that the fire left behind. Dean could see the imprint it made on Sam soul. He saw it every time Sam though Dean wasn't looking, every time he replaced the bandages, every grunt or wince Dean could see through Sam's façade. Dean could see clear as day that Sam had given up. Dean could see that with each passing minute Sam was getting worse, his body was healing but his mind was a raw open wound, seeping blood and fluids.

"I'm gonna go grab something to eat and you some more of those tablets, want me to bring you anything" Sam's head lifted slightly, his gaze focusing on his brother before letting it collapse back down onto the soft bed.

Dean knew Sam could see through his lies but it was easier than the stone cold truth of 'I'm going to get piss drunk because I can't deal with my brother right now.'

"C'mon Sammy, you gotta eat something. You're basically running on nothing…" Dean wasn't sure if Sam was even listening to the pleading tone of his voice, couldn't hear or just didn't care. Dean couldn't tell which.

Sam's voice was faint; Dean could hardly hear the words that were coming from Sam's mouth. "I'm fine Dean." Those three trusty words that meant absolute bullshit but just this once Dean chose to believe them.

"Alright, don't, uh, strain yourself too much ok?" Without as much as a glance back, Dean made his way door, dreading too look back.

*.*.*.*

Sam glanced over as Dean turned his back to leave; the room felt empty, cold. Sam counted the minutes as they went by; ten rolled into twenty then sixty. All Sam could do was watch the door and wait. Sam spent the rest of the evening constantly glancing at the time and silently hoping Dean was going to come back and take him away from this place. The room was dark and cold, the tattered curtains made sure that even a sliver of light couldn't penetrate inside leaving Sam bath in the inky, unwelcoming blackness that consumed the room.

That's when the voices ran over him like cold water, sending shivers down him spine and making the skin along his spine prickle. They whispered into his ear, coaxing him, taunting him with each minute that passed. The whispering got louder, angrier, Dean was gone and nothing could protect him now, they had come for him and they were never going to stop. Sam reached out and grabbed the spare pillow, pulling it over his head to block them out, ignoring the voices, the feeling that washed over him as they inched closer.

Sam's clamped his hands around his ears, his fingers digging into his scalp as he drags his nails down clawing at his ears. Curling up in a tight ball he lay there unmoving, whispering to himself, saying the same thing over and over _"It's not real, it's not real, it's not real…" _He knew his prayers were in vain, just a string of false hope just waiting to be cut away. Dean wasn't coming home, not now anyways, but the idea was all Sam could hold onto, what kept his sanity. _Dean's coming home, it'll be ok. _It's what kept the demons away.

*.*.*.*

Dean couldn't tell how long he sat at the bar for, or how many glasses of liquor he ploughed through. The drinks just kept coming, a shot to drown out Sam, and another to block out the dark haired and blue eyed face that had been swirling around in Dean's mind this last week, and two more to drown out the voice of his father that echoed through his head. The sound of disappointment that reverberated through his skull as his thoughts drifted to his biggest failure, Sam. But no matter how many shots, how many glasses of alcohol he consumed the thought of Sam always resurfaced and always followed closely behind by the image of that stupid doctor with his annoyingly mesmerising ocean blue eyes, and the way his stupid scrubs were never tucked in properly like he just rolled out of bed, and how whenever he said 'h' the corners of his lips would turn up slightly into a small smile as he spoke…

Dean was _not_ in love, that'd be absurd and he certainly wasn't pining over Sam's doctor. He pinned it on the alcohol; it was fogging his brain, removing any sensible thought and replacing it with absurdities. The whole idea of that was ridiculous; Dean couldn't have pushed the thought of Castiel out of his mind faster.

The thoughts of Cas slipped away; soon the only thing that occupied his clouded, alcohol induced thoughts was his little brother, Sam lying down on the bed completely oblivious to his surroundings. The thought of Sam drifting around like a ghost, silent, unaware, uninterested about his surroundings for who knows how long haunted Dean. It haunted him every morning he woke and saw his brother's fragile figure sprawled out the bed, each limb placed specifically so there was minimal pain, how each movement was calculated, cautioned. He was a ghost and Dean couldn't take looking at the hollow wreck he called Sam Winchester.

Dean could barely form a coherent thought, his mind was clouded, the world started to spin as his senses were suddenly abused as a petite blonde started making her way over. Her hips swayed slightly with each step, she radiated confidence as she strutted forward, and she walked with poise and certainty as she slid into the seat next to Dean. Her sharp gaze cut into Dean's back as he took another sip of his alcohol; no matter how hard he tried he couldn't ignore her.

Dean pivoted his body around to face her, grinning widely as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Can I buy you a drink there Miss…" His mouth felt too dry, his tongue too big for his mouth as his words came out in a slurred mess.

"Cassie" She supplied for him, letting her leg press up against Dean's thigh, "and I think we've both had enough" She dragged her fingernails over Dean's arm lightly, sending small jolts of pleasure straight through his arm and right down to his stomach.

'Cassie,' the name itself made a faint blush ignite the tips of Dean's ears, further reddening his already flushed cheeks. It was too similar, too close; why did it affect him so much. Wonderment and confusion swirled around Dean's thoughts before he realised she was watching him with familiar calculating blue eyes, expecting a reply.

"M' names Dean by the way" Dean could barely get the words out before their both collided into a messy kiss. Dean could feel her arm snake around his lower back pushing him further into her as her mouth ravaged his.

The rest of the night was a blur of colours and touches. The light caress of skin on skin and the intoxication brought on liquor and lust. The trip to her house was a haze of colours; reds, pinks and blues blurred together as they stumbled into the bedroom. Their energies clashed against each other, her icy grasp licking against the fire that was Dean's soul, burning bright into the cold night. They devoured each other; ice dampening the fire and the fire melting away the ice. Their energies rippled, drifting away before surging back together in a frenzied climax.

Dean dreamt of fire; of being strung up as flames licked his body consuming him whole. Dean dreamt of his mother burning, of Sam trapped in his house as fire ate away at his flesh. He watched his mother die over and over, her scream echoing through his dream, the fire that consumed her and almost killed Sam. He saw it through his eyes, the eyes of a naive four year old; Mary hanging from the ceiling as her blood started to pool below her, the fire catching as it engulfed the whole room stealing his mother away, taking Sammy and running outside. He watched it happen over and over before it started to fade away, the memory diminishing before all that was left was the roar of the flames and a gaping hole in his chest. Dean dreamt of Hell and he was in it.

Dean woke up from his dream with a jolt as if someone pulled him out, rescuing him from the fires that tormented his sleep. Dean groggily opened his eyes and glanced around the blurred room, his eyes were burning and his head was pounding along with his heart; rapid and loud. His chest felt like a herd of wild bulls had stampeded over him, even breathing felt like an effort; pins and needles tickled along his hands and feet like ants crawling under his skin. As he tried to pull himself up the world started to spin, mercilessly sending pangs of nausea straight to Dean's stomach, making the insides of his stomach threaten to make an encore appearance. Without another thought he reached over for his clothes and tugged them on, trying as much as he could to ignore the pulsing headache. The only thing Dean wanted to do was go back to sleep, in this strange room and just forget, forget about his duties, forget about Sam. _Shit… _

_SAM_

"Fuck!" the realisation hit Dean like a punch to the stomach, without a second thought Dean rolled out of the bed, half falling half jumping out of the bed forgetting his hangover for a second, but only for a second.

The nausea rolled over Dean sending him running to the bathroom without so much as a glance towards the door that lead to his freedom, for now he was trapped by the weakness of his stomach, caving in to its pains.

As soon as Dean's knees hit the cold tiles in front of the toilet the bile that was resting in his throat was wretched up, spilling into the toilet bowl. Kneeling there Dean tried to piece together last night's events; it just came to him in flashes of countless shots and the sensation of light touches. Then it slowly hit him, the girl at the bar, the sex… _Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. _

After finally composing himself Dean slowly lifted himself off of the floor and made his way back to the bedroom. Dean pulled out his phone to check the time, almost eleven am. _Fan-fucking-tastic,_ Dean thought as he scrolled through his messages. The number 4 hung over his message inbox, clicking on it Dean started to read, attempting to make out the blurred words that danced around his screen.

_7:19pm  
Sam Winchester  
Dean are you coming back?_

_10:36pm  
Sam Winchester  
Dean?_

_1:47am  
Sam Winchester  
The keys under the doormat _

_7:03am  
Sam Winchester  
I need more meds… can you get them on the way back?_

After gazing intensely down at his phone for another ten minutes Dean made it to his feet and he started to slowly make his way out of Cassie's apartment looking around at the unfamiliar shops, searching for anything that resembled a chemist. Walking through the crisp morning air helped Dean clear his mind; the pounding in his head had started to subside. It helped him think, as well as he could think at that given time anyways, he thought about how he failed Sam, how he failed at protecting him, how he failed at being a big brother, he thought of how instead of sitting with Sam last night he went out and got trashed; Dean's thoughts cluttered his brain filling him with self-doubt and self-deprecation.

As he strolled past an old washed out diner Dean could feel his stomach groan in protest at the thought of food but it didn't stop the niggling sensation at the back of his head crave for as much sodium pumped carbs that could be served on a small plate. The small diner was quaint, not many people sat at the few tables to have lunch. The quiet was somewhat soothing; crowds' right now wasn't the best way to cure a hangover, although coffee certainly was one step closer to a clearer head.

"What can I get you darl?" Dean glanced up and looked at the young plump lady that was hovering over him with a small notepad in hand and wearing an overly fake smile in hope that it would score her a decent tip.

Glancing upwards Dean returned her smile with a small flirtatious grin, "just some coffee and whatever burger you've got"

"Alrighty, it'll just be a minute with your coffee" With a slight toss of her hair the waitress heading back towards the kitchen without as much of a glance back.

The service was quick; Dean ate his food slowly, exaggerating each chew and swallowing each bite of food as slowly as possible, hoping that his procrastinating would prolong the time it would take to face his brother. He wasn't sure why he felt so ashamed of what happened last night, it was perfectly normal for someone to get shitfaced because they could bare watching their baby brother writher in pain all night. It definitely wasn't his fault he woke up in someone else's bed either. He was purely blaming the amount of alcohol he co summed last night, nothing more than the influence of liquor and a pair of pretty eyes. Sam would understand Dean knew he would, he was his brother after all.

Pure dread shot to Dean's stomach as he finally finished the last of his meal, nauseating him all over again. Knowing Sam would probably have a fit at grease filled buns he had just consumed, Dean brought a less oil pumped and salt filled meal for him. After all Dean had said he was going to bring some food home for Sam to eat, he was just a tad later than expected. Leaving the diner he set out to his original mission of finding somewhere he could purchase anything to ease Sam's pain.

After walking for a few more blocks, Dean eventually stumbled into the store he was looking for. He walked into the chemist, clutching Sam's prescription in his hand alongside a large wad of cash that he had been saving up in these last few weeks. He glanced down at the prescription that was written is Cas's messy scrawl, _two repeats of mezlocillin for infection, acetaminophen with meperidine for the pain, and take oxandrolone for two weeks for the healing process. _Without as much as a question Dean quickly paid the cashier and fled back home to Sam or at least the ratty, run down motel they could barely afford.

*.*.*.*

The strong smell of alcohol and dried vomit wafted into the motel room as Dean stumbled back in the next day with two bags in hand alongside the dark look Dean threw Sam across the room before heading straight for the couch. One look and Sam knew exactly what happened and he knew Dean wasn't at all in the mood to give out any names or details at the moment.

Dean's voice wafted over from the couch and into the kitchen, "good to see yah walking bout' Sammy"

"''M just getting some food and its _Sam_" The sound of the fridge closing muffled the rest of the sentence.

"Whatever princess, and I brought you something from a diner anyway" Without as much as shifting from his position on the couch he held out the bags he brought back with him, shaking them slightly in the air, a rattling sound emitting from one "and a special concoction called a shitload of pain killers mixed with some other meds I can't read"

"Yeah, last night and you can't read them 'cause they're more than two syllables long" with a huff Sam slowly made his way over to Dean, his feet dragging along the worn out carpet floor. "Oh and Bobby called, he was wanting to know when we were gonna arrive?"

"Hmmm? Oh right yeah, I better call him back. We should leave tonight around seven so we can hit the high way and get there tomorrow before dark" With a nod Sam took both of the bags and settled on the arm chair, leaning slightly on the side so his back wouldn't press too much against the back of the chair.

After a few minutes of sitting in an uncomfortable silence Sam looked over at Dean's still form, "Dean?"

"What?"

"Go have a shower, you kind of stink," the corners of Sam's mouth twitched slightly as to small grin formed on his face.

"Bitch"

"Jerk" Sam quickly shot back, his mouth twisted into a large smile as he gazed over at Dean, something Dean hadn't seen since before Sam left for Stanford. Today might not be as bad as Dean was dreading.

*.*.*.*

Night came quickly and Sam and Dean had started to load the car, packing the few items they actually owned. A backpack each full of their clothes, Sam's medication and their phones summed up their belongings. All of Sam's personal belongs had been destroyed in the fire that claimed Jess's life and almost claimed Sam's life. Anything Dean owned that held any personal value was in the impala; then again his most treasured item was the impala.

The impala was more than just Dean's car or John's hand me down, it was much, much more; it was in essence Dean's soul in its purest form. It was Sam and Dean's childhood, it was their home. No matter how many times Dean replaced the car parts or scrapped off old pieces of metal, the impala stayed the same and it was the small things that made it theirs; the car they lived in as kids and escaped in as adults. It was things like Sam and Dean's initials that they had carved into the interior of the car as kids when they were on the way to a new town, the rattling every time the air conditioner was turned on. It carried each nostalgic memory Dean could hold onto, no matter how small and insignificant it was what carried Dean's soul, his childhood.

The impala was a memory in itself; it reminded Dean of what he had and what he could never have again. All of those small things were just a reminder of the past, the past that he longed for, the past that he was so close to reaching but could never touch.

They climbed into the impala, Sam constantly shifting and squirming in his seat in attempt to find a comfortable position. The pain wasn't as uncomfortable and obvious as before, they both could see the significant changes. After using the new creams and medication in the morning Dean noted that the redness was fading and the puffiness of the damaged skin had god down considerable. The burns still were tender and in some areas a much brighter red colour but it was healing. Slowly but surely, it was healing. Soon all that would remain would be scars and the discolouration of Sam's skin.

The drive was quite, the soft hum of the engine was soothing as Dean sped down the highway trying to make it to Bobby's house before the sunrises. The faint thrum in his head was what fuelled him forward; the ghost of his morning headache reminded him how he failed at the simplest task. _Look after Sammy. Take care of your baby brother. _

The haunting memory of the fire than killed claimed his mother's life and almost took Sam away too was still clear. The sound of her scream, the burning flesh, his father giving him Sam to run as fast as he could out of the house. The memory was all too familiar, it tormented his dreams and now it was mixed with something else. Something that Dean could barely to live with, the memories that haunted him day and night.

When he was his mother burn he saw Sammy with her, both kneeling in the fires as it consumed them. Eating them whole and dragging them all down into the depths of pit to be strung up and carved into all eternity. Nightmares plagued his dreams, constantly nagging his subconscious of the similarities of his mothers and Jess's death. He thought of the faces constantly flashed through his dreams, black eyes and the glimmer of a reflection on a blade, the fire reflecting in the silver of the knife as it slid across his flesh. They were the faces that Sam described, down to the cruel glint of black eyes and the claws that raked his flesh. Sam's voice tickled the back of Dean's mind, _'Dean, the demons… they're here. Dean… please'_ the constant nagging from his eight year old brother about monsters that lurked in the dark and demons that hid in the shadows.

Dean quickly withdrew from his thoughts and glanced over at Sam's sleeping form. He watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and the peaceful expression on his face; all the worry lines that had taken refuge to Sam's forehead in these last few weeks had faded away. Turning back to the road Dean let himself relax and keep driving, there were still a couple hours until they arrived at Bobby's and he will let Sam rest until then.

*.*.*.*

Sam awoke to the gentle prod of his shoulder as Dean attempted to wake him up from his dreamless sleep; it was the best rest he had gotten in weeks.

With blurry eyes Sam gazed over at Dean, slightly irritated for being awaken "We at Bobby's yet?"

"Yeah we're here, sorry for waking you up. Bobby probably has a bed ready if you wanna go back to sleep" Dean slowly climbed out of the impala and gazed over at Sam, waiting for him to get out of the car.

"Nah I'm good, I'm awake now and it's almost two in the afternoon. I can survive a couples hours of sunlight, I slept for ages anyway" Sam followed Dean, carefully climbing out of the car so he didn't bump against anything.

"Hurry up and get out of the car princess, I need to unload the car" With an arm outstretched, Dean half guided and half pulled Sam out of the car seat, directing him over to Bobby's porch.

"Whatever… Jerk"

"Bitch" Dean quickly shot back.

Sam's gaze flickered over to the front door and then back to Dean who was pulling out their bags from the trunk of the car. With a soft sigh he walked over the front door, tripping over a loose floorboard that was jutting out. Sam rapped his knuckles against the door pane a couple of times and waited patiently for a response, hoping the old coot was home. Sam glanced back over at Dean's lumbering form as he dragged the bags to the porch, wondering if he should try and help, but the tingling sensation in his lower back said otherwise. After a few seconds of the faint shuffling sound coming from inside, the door swung open to reveal a slightly disgruntled Bobby, but that didn't stop Sam from throwing his arms around him.

Pulling his arms back, Sam smiled gently as he looked at the older man. "Hey Bobby, it's been a while"

"You boys have grown up a fair bit, especially you Sam, it's been a while" Bobby shared a quick glance with Dean before heading back inside, signalling for Sam and Dean to follow. "Good thing Dean called so I could clear the rooms a bit"

It was exactly as Sam remembered it as a kid; the piles of books littered the entire house taking up most of the space. It was the exact same organised chaos as it had been for years and it was the only place that Sam could truly call a home. All of the other places he dared to call home had been destroyed, and he knew both times it was because of him. Every time he entered this household he felt a twinge of guilt and anticipation, it was only a matter of time before he loses this home as well; Sam knew that was to be expected, he knew not to ever get attached to something that could easily slip through his grasp. He had Dean, he had the impala and that's all he needed

They spent the rest of the day trying to get settled in the house, slowly unpacking all of their clothes and maintaining light hearted conversation. Sam knew what they were up to, he could see it in the silent exchanges Dean and Bobby shared whenever Sam showed a hint of pain that reminded them of the sin he committed. He knew they were trying their hardest to skip around and dodge any conversation that involved the topic of 'Sam's letters.' 'Jess' and 'the fire'; Sam knew what they were up to; he could see it in the silent exchanges Dean and Bobby shared. He could see the look on their faces whenever Sam showed a hint of pain that reminded them of the sin he committed. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and forced himself to laugh along to the conversation and reminisce of the 'good old days.'

The sun started to slowly set and Sam could feel himself start to become weary as the sun disappeared and the moon took its place as the only source of light. His eyelids felt like a ten ton weight had crashed onto them making it feel almost impossible to keep them open. Putting down the beer he was cradling in his lap, he slowly rose from the couch and nodded over at Bobby.

"I'm going to crash, see you all tomorrow" Sam lumbered back to his room ignoring the 'goodnights' that the other two mumbled in his wake.

The bed was soft and comforting, better than anything those hotels had to offer; it was compelling, the soft mattress and the clean duvet. Any ideas of showering or taking his medications floated away as soon as he sunk into the bed, sleep overcame his senses, drowning out his wants and needs. Sleep came easily that night but it was only followed closely behind by nightmares and the whispering voices

*.*.*.*

With Sam's absence the atmosphere had become less tense, only the occasional glance was shared between Dean and Bobby after Sam left. They sat in silence as Dean carefully exhumed the warm beer in his hand as if it contained all the solutions to his problems. Bobby was the first to speak which snapped Dean out his daydreaming, "Sam's looking better but the kid can't stay focused for more than 10 minutes. Always retreating back to that big head of his"

"I don't know what to do Bobby; he's been like this since he woke up. It's worse now than ever. It's like the further we get away from everything the more he retreats back into his head" Bobby could sense the anxiety coming off Dean in waves as the words came tumbling out of his mouth. "It's like I'm not ever there anymore, he sees right through me as if there's someone behind me, gazing right over my head"

Bobby just gave Dean a sharp nod before taking a quick swig of his beer, considering Dean's words. "Is that it or has that small brain forgotten something else that could be important. This is Sam we're talking about. That kid has never been 'alright'"

Dean could feel his breath catch at those words, he could hear the sincerity and concern behind them but it just flew over his head. "This is Sam we're talking about, the only strange thing bout' that kid was he cared more about books than people" Dean snapped back putting up his mental barriers.

"You both were little snot nosed brats but Sam's always been a spirited kid, just as suborn as your father but you're right, he is your brother. That's why you need to do something about it Dean" The sternness of Bobby's voice took Dean by surprise and he let his shoulders slump down in defeat.

"I can't just waltz up to a university and demand information about of the students, especially after… after what happened with Jess"

"Listen, you boys are all the family I have left and just asking around won't hurt a bit. The kid had friends right? Ask them"

With a sharp nod Dean slid away from his seat, "I'll go in the morning, better get it over with. Give me a few days" chocking back a yawn Dean walked over to his bed, reading to crash for the night hoping to rid himself of the world.

Sleep came quickly, crashing over him like a wave as it pulled him under. Colourless images and thoughts swirled around in his thoughts, prodding at his subconscious, toying with his fears and teasing his hopes. Dean dreamt in colour that night, a blinding mixture of reds, yellows and oranges. He dreamt of fire, burning away his heart and soul.

**Sorry this has taken so so so so long to update but mix intense procrastination, anime and schizophrenia meds that make you sleep into one big concoction of 'couldn't write if I had a gun pointed to me head.' I just want to explain that it took a really long time to get the words out. Writing a lot of this was pretty emotional because the type of issues Sam is facing is what I have and it's hard admitting that this is very similar to what I experience in my life. To whoever is still reading this or just found it thank you for taking your time for my shitty writing and my dialogue-phobia. Reviews would be absolutely grand.**


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